


Fetch

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 15:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Sam's been checking out a lead that never seemed very promising to begin with, and turned out to be nothing. He’s returning to the Impala when suddenly…Something nibbles at his heels.He turns around, but there’s nothing there. Pedestrians pass him by, obviously not having felt a thing.Crowley survival story.





	Fetch

After months of carefully watching his brother, rather confused as to why he appears so dejected when he thinks no one’s looking, even though they got Cas and Mom back thanks to one more divine miracle, Sam cannot deny one simple fact: Dean is grieving for Crowley.

More than that. Dean misses Crowley. Actually misses the King of Hell.

Grieving, Sam can understand. Even he has done that, just a little bit. They knew him for so long, he helped them several times, and he died for them, in the end.

But missing him?

And yet that is the only conclusion he can come to.

They don’t speak of it. They rarely speak of Crowley period, except for when Dean recalls some information on a case or they encounter demons. Sam can’t help but notice that Dean always hits them a little bit harder after they’ve made a quip about their former king.

One day, he asks Cas. The former angel shrugs. “It is to be expected. Dean’s affections go deep.”

“I know, but Crowley?”

“It’s hard not to get attached when saving the world with someone” Cas says lightly and Sam has to agree.

Still…

He just wishes he could help Dean, but there’s nothing but time that can. He remind himself of that every time he stumbles across him at night, a glass of something that looks like Craig next to him, staring at the wall.

At least Sam thinks so until life throws another twist at them.

He’s been checking out a lead that never seemed very promising to begin with, and turned out to be nothing (he should listen more often to Dean’s gut feelings). He’s returning to the Impala when suddenly…

Something nibs at his heels.

He turns around, but there’s nothing there. Pedestrians pass him by, obviously not having felt a thing.

Paranoia. Has to be. Every hunter develops…

Growling.

What the hell?

Another nib. Some more growling. As if something wants to catch Sam’s attention, but his attention only. A hellhound? They aren’t exactly known to be discreet. And yet this has to be one.

They’re trying to make him walk into a specific direction. Sam contemplates his chances. He has an angel blade, so dealing with it won’t be a problem; but what if it just wants to get him alone so it and other hellhounds can ambush him?

But that’s not how hellhounds work, so Sam decides to risk it.

It seems to be complacent enough, leading him and now and then softly barking to let him know where to go; and it certainly doesn’t pay attention to the other humans in the city.

It finally stops (which Sam learns because he runs into it) in front of a tacky-looking store proclaiming to sell “Magic supplies.”

Only once Sam takes a closer look, it’s anything but tacky. The protection symbols etched into the glass are real enough, he can tell; and at least one of the items in the display – a protection box – looks good enough for any hunter’s arsenal.

The hellhound is… scratching at the door.

Sam bites his lip and thinks. Then he opens the door and enters behind the hellhound.

A cheerful bell rings out, and Sam’s companion starts barking, almost like a normal dog greeting its owner.

It’s immediately followed by someone calling out from the back, “Juliet? Where have you been, Papa’s been worrying about you –“

Sam stands still.

Juliet.

That voice.

_That voice._

He never thought he’d hear it again.

Crowley comes forward, opening his mouth to greet his customer, only to stop and stare at him when he realizes who it is.

“Moose?”

“Crowley?!”

Juliet whines, apparently having stepped up to Crowley and demanding attention. He automatically starts to scratch her behind the ears. “What sort of ideas do you have? Bringing one of the boys here?”

Sam clears his throat. Even though Crowley’s wearing an Armani suit, just like in the old days, there’s something different about him. He’s a bit thinner, for once, and he looks tired. “Crowley? Are you – are you human too?”

“Too? Wait – Cas is human as well?”

Sam nods. “God, or Chuck, or whatever, he brought him back human –“

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific there. What do you mean, brought him back? Did he die again!?”

“You died too” Sam says, but Crowley just waves it off.

“Yeah, well… Thought it’d be a big, final gesture. Saving the world from Lucifer. Didn’t really turn out that way.”

“God?”

“Who cares? All I know is, I woke up in Chicago about six months back.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Sam asks, baffled. Dean would have taken Crowley in immediately, he’s sure of it.

“Would you have wanted me to?”

Whether Sam himself would have been happy… that’s complicated. In fact, it’s so complicated he doesn’t want to think about it in case he finds out it’s not so complicated after all. “Dean missed you.”

Crowley snorts. “He punched me in the face the last time he saw me.”

“You had let Lucifer out!”

“He had escaped. And he could control my meat suit” Crowley snaps. “Do you really think the last few months have been so easy that I –“ he stops talking and Sam realizes that it’s different, talking to Crowley as a human. It reminds him of the old church, and a demon slowly starting to cry upon feeling remorse for the first time in centuries.

After they have both been silent for a while, Crowley sighs. “I need a drink, and it’s time I feed this menace anyway. Feel free to join me.”

He turns abruptly and walks to the backdoor.

Sam soon learns it leads to a staircase, which in turn brings them to a small but comfortably furnished apartment. “Your place?”

Crowley nods. “Hunters pay well for select items.” Before Sam can say anything, he continues, “I don’t take money from those who can’t afford it, of course.”

_Of course_  as if it’s the most logical thing in the world.

Sam wishes Dean were here. He would understand.

Juliet whines again and Crowley brings her a plate of raw meat.

“How did you find her?” Sam asks. It seems to be the easiest topic of conversation he can think of.

“I didn’t. She found me. A few days after I’d woken up. Dragged me out of… well, it wasn’t easy, at first.”

Sam wonders if he’s supposed to ask. But then, he and Crowley were never friends. “So you decided to open a business?”

Crowley shrugs. “As good an idea as any. I still have my knowledge of lore, and I have always been good at closing deals. It seemed like the best thing to do.”

Considering everything, it probably is. Bargaining with magic items ensures that he’ll always have something at hand to protect himself in case demons come a-knocking.

He hands Sam a beer. “Nothing in there but a few drops of holy water.”

Sam nods. At this point, Crowley could have attacked him several times already, and what would he gain from harming him anyway?

“So” Crowley begins slowly, “You are all… well?”

Sam nods. “like I said, Dean gets sad now and then, presumably because he misses you, but other than that…”

Crowley ignores that last part. “I knew you were alive and bumbling around, of course. Some of my customers get chatty.”

Hunters usually do when they meet someone who’s also part of the life. Still, this place – it’s been a gamble on Crowley’s part. Anyone could have recognized him.

“You really think I ever spent much time around hunters, except for your merry troop, of course?” Crowley asks, as always five steps ahead in any given conversation. Sam suppresses his irritation. He’s wished to elevate Dean’s grief for a while, and here’s his chance.

“Guess not. Now, excuse me, I have to call the others.”

“What for? So Squirrel can punch me in the face again?”

For everything they’ve been through, Crowley seems to focus a lot on his last day as a demon. Maybe because he was resurrected human.

“He’ll be happy to hear from you.”

Crowley shakes his head. “Fine. If only to prove you wrong” he spits, looking away, his fingers worrying the label of his beer bottle.

Beer, Sam suddenly realizes. Formerly, Crowley would never have drunk anything weaker than whiskey.

And it’s Dean’s favourite brand, too.

Sam excuses himself to make the call, pacing up and down the street in front of Crowley’s store as he does so.

The former king of Hell could have done anything. He could be the CEO of any company he chose by now, given his record. And yet he decided to quietly settle down to help out hunters.

“Sammy? And?”

He almost forgot he came here to check out a case. “Nothing, like you said.”

“Told you”. Deans sounds smug.

Sam takes a deep breath. “Dean, I found Crowley.”

A pause. Then, taking a deep breath, Dean demands, “Say that again:”

“I found Crowley. He runs a store for hunters. He’s human, like Cas.”

“Crowley’s back? And he didn’t call?”

“He seems to think that we – that you – wouldn’t want him back.”

“Idiot” Dean mutters under his breath with more emotion than even Sam expected. “Where is he located?”

Sam gives him the address, and Dean hangs up unceremoniously.

One of the reasons Sam decided to check the lead out alone was that the city is only half an hour’s drive away from the bunker, and he’s not surprised when another car from the Men of letters comes to a screeching halt in front of Crowley’s place half an hour later. Cas and Mom are accompanying Dean, of course.

“Where is he?” his brother demands, jumping out of the car.

“Upstairs, with Juliet.”

“His hellhound?”

“Seems she found him easily enough after he was resurrected.”

Dean shakes his head. “Damn demon. Alright.”

He sweeps past Sam.

Mom wants to follow him, but Cas touches her arm. “Don’t, Mary. I think Dean wants to convince himself this is real.”

“Perhaps you’re right” she says, no doubt remembering that after she and Cas returned, Dean flinched every time they came near him, not completely convinced it could actually be that easy.

“Well” Sam says, “at least Team Free Will’s complete again.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t give me that look, you know Dean’s been considering him a member for some time.”

Cas nods as they listen to something suspiciously sounding like a rant of Dean’s about  _burn phones_  and  _calling in_  and  _never do that again_  and  _good to have you back, man_  floating down from Crowley’s open kitchen window.


End file.
